


To Hold Jem Between Us

by ClockworkOpera



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Confessions, Multi, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkOpera/pseuds/ClockworkOpera
Summary: Tessa and Will have just learned of her pregnancy from Jem after her yearly meeting at Blackfriars Bridge.





	1. Chapter 1

Will

A rare winter storm hovered over London for the better half of two days. It left more than a few inches of snow and the horses and carriages of the city diligently went to work tilling the clumps of ice and ash into fields of slush. Will had lost his footing on the cobblestones, a deadly patch of unexpected ice causing him to slip at the most inopportune time. It gave the demon an opening.

With lightning speed the grotesque and slimy tentacles had whipped around his wrist, pulling him a good distance down the street. With his free hand he ignited the seraph blade on a whisper of Jophiel and sheered the tentacle from the demon’s body. He was freed, but the poisonous needled teeth embedded themselves into his skin. He swore ripping it free. Gabriel moved ahead of him in those few precious seconds and finished the creature off. It had been a close call.

Breathing hard he picked the last of the teeth out, like removing splinters from his skin. “That was the last one,” Gabriel informed him cheerily.

Tessa told him the news earlier this afternoon, the bright and terrifying news upon her return from her visit with Jem at Blackfriar’s Bridge. “I’m pregnant,” she’d said utter simplicity and awe on her face. He was ecstatic. He was also more than a little terrified. Even now it was all he could think about.

Now would not be the time to fall to a bloody and poisoned demise at the hands of a Raun demon. There was too much for live for. What was worse was Gabriel, blast the man, had come to his rescue. There would be no living it down.

They hoped that Mortmain had spoken the truth about Tessa’s ability to bear children, but as month by month passed by, and it didn’t come to pass, he secretly worried that Mortmain had been mistaken. Tessa did her best to hide her disappointment carrying on with a stiff upper lip that would have done any Englishman proud, but the words he used on that long ago night to destroy her hopes of a future with him haunted him still. It cannot be the unwanted consequences of a dalliance that concern you since warlocks are unable to have children. Tess’s compassion was strong enough to forgive him even those cruelest of remarks. Yet, as a month passed into a year he watched her ever growing disappointment, as the old fear settled into her. Maybe Mortmain had been wrong.

He loved her regardless: Tessa was the only woman he would have chosen to marry, but with her warlock blood and the Clave’s prejudices against their match he didn’t want her to feel deficient in any way. He wished Jem were here more often for all of Will’s love affair with words, his parabatai always offered her the best of ones, the words with the most comfort. He’d done a splendid job at that today, with: “You’re pregnant.”

Will was sure Jem would find the time to see him in the next few weeks to offer Will his own personal words of comfort. The reality that he would be responsible for the shaping of new person in the world was enough for him to quietly call up to God and ask, “What were you thinking?” while consequently feeling most blessed.

For with those two simple words his life was utterly changed.

He looked up into the night sky. The storm had scoured clean the ever-present hazy soot that clung to city. The moon hung low and full. It was as if the whole of London was cast in witchlight. The stars, hard as diamonds formed constellations dancing their own path towards dawn. And Tessa waited up for him, warm and safe at the Institute. He pictured her long hair down, the fire blazing before her with a book in her hand.

He’d managed buy a stack of dime store novels from America, many about their obsessive quest to colonize the west. There were tall tales of cowboys and Indians and he wondered what kind of demons were to be found roaming the open plains and wondrous unexplored mountains. The Shadowhunters sent there to protect against demon threats were as much adventurers and explorers as the mundanes. He hoped to meet them one day and hear their stories first hand. But, he was thoroughly content to be here in London with his wife. They could live vicariously through those terribly written tales.

Maybe their child would be an adventurer.

“You need a rune for your arm there,” Gabriel observed grabbing his stele. Ichor had eaten away his outer gear and was making admiral progress burning through his arm and the punctures of needle marks were turning an angry red and swelling. He grabbed a fistful of dirty snow and rubbed the poisoned blood off his skin.

“I can do it myself,” he answered curtly. Grabbing his own stele, he went to work. Gabriel was not his parabatai and his doodling of angelic language on Will’s skin would hold no more power than if Will did it himself—it was not like Jem was there to add his strength.

He felt the sudden punch of dizzying weakness, most likely from the poison edging into his bloodstream, but it may have come from the sudden burst of grief from missing Jem. A slow gentle relief told Will the iratze was working, but it was nothing like the feeling of one made from his parabatai. When those took hold, it was camaraderie and love and all the emotions of caring and wellbeing flowing into his skin along with Angelic power.

Never in his life would he feel that again. He blinked back tears and was glad for the shadows of the night that Gabriel might not see the tormented expression on his face. Jem’s rightful place was with him and Tessa, not with the Silent Brothers.

It happened sometimes where he could get through whole days busy with the tedium of everyday life, where the ever-present loss of Jem faded to a dull ache. It was like losing a limb, where the phantom pain soared sometimes, unexpected and harsh, so that the dull aches turned to agony. It was the process of grief, for he’d experienced bad moments remembering Ella as well. The chaos of learning to run an Institute with all the details that included could only serve as distraction for so long. Charlotte was a saint and he had no idea what she was thinking putting him in charge of one of the most important Shadowhunter Institutes in the world.

Being a Shadowhunter without Jem—well, it had been close to four years and there were times he felt like he was faking his way through the motions pretending to still be whole. He still felt lost—a fraud.

He never voiced these thoughts to Tessa, though there were times she’d give him a look and he understood she could see right through down to his soul. The irony was the only one who could understand was Jem. And his parabatai was much on his mind today. Could anyone, even Jem, be truly selfless enough to be happy for Will on this occasion. Will felt a bit of a thief, living and enjoying a life that should have belonged to his parabatai. Wouldn’t the occasional thought of imagined dreams of being married to Tess, holding their child, haunt Jem’s dreams?

Did Silent Brothers even dream?

He’d been quiet too long. Gabriel was looking at him like he was daft. “It’s normal you realize.”

“What is?”

“Being distracted when one finds out they’re about to become a father for the first time,” Gabriel answered. He was far too cheerful tonight.

Will sulked. It’s not that he wasn’t appreciative of Gabriel’s attempts of solidarity, his attempts at being a in brother-in-law in arms—he just didn’t want Gabriel. He wanted Jem.

Will had thought Cecily too young to marry Gabriel. More to it was that he hoped she would eventually change her mind. Anna had been born less than a year later, a chubby wild terror. How was he supposed to continue the Lightworm legacy when it now encompassed his niece? Cecily had Gabriel wrapped around her finger, but it was nothing compared to Anna. Will grinned to himself. Anna would forever be his favorite—no toddler should have that level of gleaming calculation in her eyes. He was only waiting for her to be old enough to start plotting with him. Gabriel wouldn’t know what him.

As an older brother, he’d been mystified when Cecily met adult milestones before him. It made her elder in a way that left him uncomfortable. If Gabriel thought his anxiety was about the baby he’d not dissuade the view.

“Let’s get back,” he muttered and left Gabriel behind in his wake. He needed Tessa in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It cannot be the unwanted consequences of a dalliance that concern you since warlocks are unable to have children," is a direct quote from Cassandra Clare's Infernal Devices


	2. Chapter 2

Tessa

They were forbidden thoughts, secrets from Will and they weighed on her. Sitting before this same fire, poker in hand, she remembered the night she burned a brand of pain into her palm. With tonight’s joy there was also terrible loneliness. Tonight was a night with brilliant news and happiness but there was a part of her desolate for what they’d also lost too. Part of her very much wanted to brand the other hand: for the pain, the distraction, the physical proof that she’d lost Jem just as much as she lost Will that night so long ago.

Church was a few feet away, his green eyes turned golden in the firelight stared at her with accusation, as if he knew what she was contemplating. He went back to washing himself.

She’d never told Will how she got the burn, and he’d never asked.

He’d washed up, smelling the cleanliness of a castile soap, clean from ichor and blood and the remnants of a night fighting. He was so very handsome, her Will—but his eyes darkened when he saw what she held. Upon seeing it he carefully lifted the poker away and set it aside. He sank to his knees on the thick pile of the oriental rug and lifted the palm with the burn scar to his lips. He kissed her gently and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. He didn’t let her have her hand back, instead pulled her close to the warmth of his body and massaged her palm in gentle circles. He’d turn serious in a way he only was with her sometimes. Gone the sarcastically witty, angry boy. Here with her now, he was a man, her husband and lover. The only one who could possibly understand.

When she’d awoken from the fevered dreams, the remnants of heavenly fire racing through her veins all those many years ago, it had been to Jem. To say goodbye. She’d wanted to confess then to Jem about how she’d spent the night with Will. He hadn’t wanted to know, not the details of any of it, but he known. He’d known enough and so she’d stayed the confession of her conscience. She stared at the flames in the fire and felt a tear slide down her cheek.

How could she confess these taboos and forbidden feelings to Will? There was a limit to provoking jealously, but she felt if she weren’t truthful with him then it would be the same as lying. She was afraid of a rift growing from that silence. If Will said he didn’t want to know, as Jem had, she decided she would respect that. Things had long since been settled between the three of them.

Will’s calloused finger traced the trail of wetness on her cheek. “Are you sorry about the baby?” His voice was gravelly and she felt the uneasy breath on the exhalation of his words.

She startled not realizing how he could come up with such an idiotic conclusion.

“No, Will. Never.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him. His face was closed though in a way that she knew if she didn’t handle the situation just right he’d rattle through his list of perceived insecurities. For such a strong man, she found the fragile vulnerabilities to his ego endearing. He needed her reassurances, and what she was feeling had nothing to do with the baby.

“He will be a Shadowhunter. I admit that if the Consul were anyone other than Charlotte it might be an issue…” Will began.

Well yes, his grandfather was a greater Eidolon demon, of course the Clave would have reservations with that. And she hoped to speak with Magnus or Ragnor because she didn’t know for sure if the child would be a warlock.

That wasn’t what this was about.

“Did Jem give any cause for you to believe the babe will not be born healthy?” Shadowhunter and demon blood mixed will ill effects. Babies of such a union were stillborn and Tessa’s survival was due to her Clockwork guardian angel. His life force tuned to hers had saved her life an unknown amount of times before she was born healthy into the world. There was always a chance…

She turned his face to her, her eyes direct and bold. “No, it is nothing like that. Jem and the other Silent Brothers gave no indications the baby is in any jeopardy.”

“Then what— “

She grabbed him and kissed him taking solace in his lips her hands running up the back of his shirt to stroke the muscles of his back. Her hands eventually found their way to his hair she marveled that even after years together he still made her feel as alive as he was when she was sixteen. His hands rested on the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair while his other hand rested low on her stomach. Protective. Reverent.

She pursed her lips. They were slightly swollen as she tried to figure out how to start. He was being patient, letting her take her time. She loved him for that. So, she closed her eyes and sent a prayer up to the angels that telling Will the truth would be the right thing to do.

She’d made her decision. She was ready for her confession.


	3. Chapter 3

Will

Tessa’s seriousness indicated a certain direness and he prepared himself for terrible news. What else had she and Jem spoken of. Perhaps the child would be born with two heads. He thought it possible to have two heads and still be healthy in a flash of panic. Or maybe green in color as Ragnor. There were any number of unenviable possible warlock marks.

He steeled himself to the possibility. He’d be a bastion of fortitude, stalwart with whatever came. Tessa was the bravest person he’d ever known, whatever troubles she worried for he would be there for her and they would face them together. He’d be whatever she needed him to be.

“Do you remember the night you told me about your curse, when you said you were finally free, that we could be together…it was in this room?” she asked.

It was easily one of the worst nights of his life. That and the night his parabatai rune burned off his skin and he believed Jem to be dead. He nodded his head in acknowledgement, voice hoarse, readying himself for news on a similar scale. “I remember.”

“I told you that I had agreed to marry Jem—even though I loved you too and I knew what the decision cost us both. Do you remember what you said?”

“I asked you if you loved him enough.” Pain flashed through his eyes. Dear God, how could a memory from years ago, wake such fresh pain. “You said you did.”

His voice sounded defeated, even to his own ears. “I pushed you away, was unforgivably horrible to you and you found solace in him.” He was quiet for a moment grappling through the horror of that night. “I never begrudged you for it. I, of anyone knows how easy Jem was to love, how he made the world worth living in.”

These were thoughts he had before, but in the solemnity of the night he found them spilling out of his mouth. “I am aging Tessa. There will come a day where you will not.”

There the gauntlet was thrown down. This must be what she was worried about.

“He’ll be here for you when I’m gone,” he continued. “The Silent Brothers are practically immortal. For whatever pain and sacrifice he endures I think it’s because he knows that. He could have chosen death, an honorable decision, but he would not leave either one of us. In a way, he can live forever with you.”

She looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “Is that what you think this is about? Why I’m upset?”

“It’s not?” A perplexing frown drew his eyebrows down as he tried to puzzle her out. Charlotte and Cecily had both warned him that pregnancy on occasion affected a woman’s mood and to be prepared for unpredictable and even bizarre behavior. Expecting it and living through it was the difference between practicing Shadowhunting skills on a training dummy and facing off with a determined demon in the heat of battle. Dear God, she wouldn’t start shapeshifting, would she?

“The Silent Brother and the Warlock,” she murmured with forced amusement. “The fanciful title of a dime store novel.”

His face flashed with mock indignation. “It would be great literature. Epic even.”

“Not that way though, us together…not in any true way,” she murmured, her voice unbearably sad.

“Yes, but you are stubborn enough and imbued with enough hope that you will never give up on him. I know you well enough that you will never stop believing in miracles, or of finding a cure and rescuing him from the clutches of the Silent Brothers.” His lips found the nape of her neck again, a gentle nuzzling. “You believed so in me after all.”

“Have you thought of trying you hand at writing novels. I would very much like to know how this story will go?”

It was a light jest that wasn’t pulled off well. For in fact she would never give up on that hope of miracles. And if not for Jem then for the other poor souls that endured yin fen poisoning. Her mind wandered distractedly to the poor werewolves who’d fallen to the drug as well.

Even if a cure could be found the Silent Brothers were another matter entirely. They hadn’t sewn his mouth closed, or taken his eyes…yet. She shivered involuntarily. There was no telling what they might do to him in the future or even if he would be the same Jem when they finished. He’d taken vows as well and she didn’t know if those could ever be undone.

She feared for a day he’d stop playing his violin. Music was not allowed in the Silent City and she ached at another part of his soul being amputated from him. They took care of the lovely instrument here and he still played on the ever-growing rare occasions they allowed him to come, but she feared for his soul if ever there came a day he did not pick it up to play.

She recalled so clearly her first reactions upon seeing Brother Enoch, mutilated and scarred and her horror and revulsion at the sight of him…their looks. Jem was the one who listened to her then, who gently lead her to another way of thinking and understanding. She hoped he didn’t believe those ignorant first impressions were what she thought of him now.

No, even if a cure was found Jem was now like a Catholic Priest in service. She’d never heard of one being freed.

“Don’t burn your hand Tessa. He wouldn’t want that.”

Will had never asked her about the scar on her hand, but was more than intelligent enough to figure out the when of it and with the when, the why of it. He’d thought this was about the baby and impending motherhood, but he was beginning to see this was about Jem. Jem was both an easier and harder subject for him.


	4. Chapter 4

Tessa

“I know he wouldn’t want that,” she whispered. The brief temptation had passed, been settled by this conversation with Will. She needed to know what his thoughts were. She wouldn’t be alone with this. She was aware there never would be a time where the two of them were completely alone on this subject. They both loved Jem too much and respected their own feelings in relation to him. It was why Will not only understood, but encouraged her yearly visits.

Only an hour every year. She should be thankful, but it was never enough. It never would be.

She feared the Silent Brothers were onto them and Will would at some point run out of demons in flowerpots as an excuse to call for the aid of a Silent Brother. What would either of them do if they called and got Brother Enoch instead?

There were legitimate calls. Silent Brothers attended births although she wasn’t sure how she felt about Jem there for that—but who else would it be? Never would she want anyone there for it but him.

Childbirth was dangerous, even for Shadowhunter women. And her skin could not bear an iratze or blood replacement runes that may save her life if the delivery became difficult.  There was always the possibility Will wouldn’t have to worry about her theoretical immortality. She tucked that fear away and wished fervently neither Will nor Jem ever considered it. She was reasonably sure there would be no shapeshifting of the child while so young.

Not for the first time she wished she had her mother to ask these things of—of learning what fears her own mother had and how she was brave in the face of them. She was very glad for Charlotte and the two would be expecting around the same time. It’d be nice to spend time together—for their children too.

“I want to name the boy James.” Will blurted, his cheeks blushed with determination and he carried an adorable shyness about him like a little boy sneaking off with a treat. Or a confession, she thought.

“I never would have considered another name, but Will, you are aware the child may be a girl.”

He cringed. He still hadn’t recovered being a brother to Cecily. She could only imagine what he’d be like with a daughter. And perhaps Anna might not be the best role model after all.

“James for a girl is good too,” but his voice sounded a bit strangled.

“And if we have more than one?”

He was startled by the thought. “Pairs you mean?” his voice rising a delightful octave. “Twins?”

“Maybe not at once,” she reassured, granting him mercy.

“James then for the first. James the second and third and so on. James, Jamie, Jemmy, I think there’s a horrid American version of yours, Jim, or some such. Seamus!” he exclaimed in exuberant jubilation.

“Shamus?”

“Better than Iago?

“Iago?”

“It is a fine Gaelic name, although those Scots tend to pervert good Welsh at times.”

Tessa didn’t want to get in a debate between Welsh and Gaelic and the peculiarities of each culture.

“Will, make love to me.” She needed his arms around her—to feel his strength.

“I will most definitely, but you are still troubled. Finish telling me what so aggrieves you. Please, Tessa. I’ll not have you worry if there is something I can do or say to ease you and although I’m very sure I can change your mood, I don’t want this between us when we make love.”

She took a deep breath. Tessa had never confessed to Will any of the details of the abbreviated night of passion she shared with Jem, when the two had come so close to making love.

She did now.

He was quiet for a very long time before he finally admitted: “I didn’t realize matters had advanced so far between the two of you.”

“We _were_ engaged.”

“Yes, but he is the most proper of men I know. Of course he would have asked for your hand the next day. He would never have treated you in the manner I did.” Old regret laced his words, not at Jem, never at him, but of Will’s own self-recrimination.

“It was something that came as a surprise, to the both of us I think.”

“No, Tessa. He loved you from the start just as I have.”

She looked at him directly in eyes, her eyes grey steel in the gravity of her mood, a strange boldness: “I have wished we hadn’t been interrupted, that we could have had that night.”

He seemed hollowed out by her words, choked up as his Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively beneath a hard swallow. Part of him was glad for Jem, if only for a moment for having the experience. He thought a green-eyed monster might flare, and he found himself glad the beast was nowhere in sight. Jem deserved as much happiness as either one had to give him. He truly believed that.

“I already knew you loved him. Why the need to tell me this and now of all times?”

She blinked hard restraining tears. “Until today at Blackfriar’s Bridge, when he confirmed what I suspected, about the baby, I wasn’t sure I could carry a child. Normal warlocks can’t get pregnant.”

He pulled her close and to two hung on to each other, a bastion of love against the fears of all new parents.

“But, sometimes I wonder if Jem and I had that night, that maybe I could have given him a child too—that is some universe this baby would have a sibling in Jem’s child.”

There. She had said it.

He looked at her blankly though as if she weren’t quite speaking in English.

“Brothers and maybe one day have been _parabatai_ themselves. It is a selfish and fanciful thought, cruel even, for he’d never be allowed to be a father.”

She took a breath struggling through thought and emotion. “Will, I love you. You are my heart. But, today I also feel grief at what we have lost and all the other futures that will never be. I know we can’t change it, and I feel entirely helpless— “

Strong arms embraced her as she found succor in quiet sobs on his shoulder. _By the Angel, did she truly just confess this? How terrible he must believe her to be?_

Will was thoughtful for a long time.

“What else is it you’ve wished for Tess?” He held her as she stilled in his arms.

“That he was still here with us, whole and healed. That we could manage a kind of unconventional family of sorts built on the bricks of love and respect. One together—the three of us.” What started as a robust determination, faded to a whisper.

“What belongs to one _parabatai_ belongs to another?”

Her hand lifted to his cheek, the contact precious and real. “Yes. But just as important is that you both belong to me.”

He pulled her into his body, breaking that precious eye contact, giving him a moment to feel her alive and in his arms. She snuggled closer to him, warmed by his body heat behind her and the fire in front of her.

“When I fall asleep, to have you on one side and him on the other. I know these thoughts are forbidden. I know they will never happen, but I feel as if I’m lying to you, or hiding a secret truth from you by not confessing this. Perhaps it is the emotions with early pregnancy…I feel so…” she struggled. “Words fail.”

For two people who had affairs of love with the written language of prose and literature, poem and verse, it was a dramatically effective statement.

“It may be a selfish thought of my own,” Will said, “but I am glad you know him and love him. Your ability to understand how much he meant to me and how much I’ve lost as well—I’m just sorry you gained that knowledge by your own grief. He’ll always be her with us Tessa.”

“You make it sound like he’s a ghost—dead.”

“He is not. I believe even as a Silent Brother he’ll love this child no less than if it were his own.”

“Yes, I believe that too. If he can that is.”

They had watched Jem grow more distant from the two of them the last years. It was the runes, Will was sure of it. The slow transition, the loss of physical needs to feed greater needs of the mind and spirit were not without a price.

He loved them both more as spirit, Will was certain, and he knew how upset Tessa became when she embraced the cold statue of his hardened body and didn’t find receiving affection. The runes of the Brotherhood allowed greater power, but the cost was a slippage of their humanity—what anchored them to earth. Physical flesh was of no consequence, everything was of mind and spirit.

It was never a question of being wrong or inappropriate. It was a question of ability.

As if her words deflated a part of his own spirit she relaxed limply into his arms allowing him to hold and comfort her, even as he found comfort for himself. _Be my hands Will, when I cannot use them._ Finding their own rhythm in the manner of husband and wife he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Will  
After thoroughly arousing her he backed off as if realizing he might not have marital relations for the duration of the pregnancy. There were fits and stops trying to figure out the right amount of jostling—trying to find creative ways to avoid any pressure to her midsection. On an exasperated laugh of growing amusement she took charge of things, and was not gentle with him.

Will, being the competitive sort rose to the occasion and the two worked at expressing their feelings in ways that couldn’t be said with words. Touch and taste, exchange of breath—capturing each other’s gasps and moans.

Secretly he liked her taking that kind of control and initiative. It added a new element to their bed play he much appreciated.

Tessa wore Jem’s necklace as they made love as she always had. But tonight it added a strange new meaning. He felt a rise of intimacy between them as he stroked and touch, licked and hummed along her skin. They hadn’t even made it to their bed, she was too eager to have him.

She traced the silvered parabatai rune with her lips and tongue and he shivered hard, almost coming at the touch. It was familiar to have her fingertips trace it for she done it a hundred times before, or for her cheek to come to rest upon it as she drifted into sleep. But, with her confession it felt different, as if the two were holding Jem between them somehow. And Jem probably never suspected how much he still lived between them.

Holding each other naked, his hand curve around her stomach again. Energy spent he was relaxed and wonder lit his eyes. Tess was his miracle and to have this blessing between them was more than he ever imagined having. He rubbed gentle circles on her shoulder, nuzzle her neck around her curling damp hair. She was languid in his arms, limbs loose and more than a little decadent.

“Did I say too much?” she asked.

He realized he never really gave her an answer. At least not a verbal one. Restless energy spent, the afterglow faded to seriousness once more.

“Please, Will. Talk to me.”

“He’s here with us.”

She snorted. “I’m not sure he would agree with that sentiment being locked up alone behind the City of Bones and beneath only God knows what runes.”

He laughed, but it was bitter.

How jealous was he? He’d seen her sometimes reach out to her side as he spooned her close while she slept—reaching out for the ghost in both their lives.

He had trouble admitting he had thoughts of the two of them, together, with her. They could have maybe even gotten away with that kind of unconventional arrangement. The Clave didn’t interfere with Parabatai unless they were in love with each other. Being in love with the same woman wasn’t against any law.

He wondered how often it happened that brothers in arms, souls so close they were knitted together as children found themselves loving the same people too. It had to have happened before, probably lots of pairs were very good at hiding it. Behind closed doors and all.

The idea held immense appeal; to spend the night, him and Jem, matching each other’s movements, anticipating actions, a mutual goal of pleasure with Tessa a willing victim. They’d trained together could almost read each other’s thoughts. They would dance in collaboration. He grew unexpectedly hard at the fantasy, the thought made him want her again, as good as a stamina rune kissing his skin.

Be my hands. Jem had spoken those final words, giving him the permission, the forgiveness—giving him his life back. Now she carried a child, his child. The natural culmination of Jem’s ultimate sacrifices. Sacrifices he continued to make every day.

He was surprised at just how much he wanted it. And sadness filled him—that he would never know the joy of Tessa’s body, her whimpers and screams, the way her hair curled with sweat or how making love to her felt like coming home. She was right, Jem would never father a child with her. Fate was that cruel. Instead he would be pulling errant Herondales out of trouble for generations to come and the thought of that undeserved responsibility was quite daunting too. Surely this child would have enough sense to follow in his mother’s footsteps rather than his.

Not the most pleasant of thoughts when one’s wife was curled in their bed, satisfied from their lovemaking and curled around the burgeoning life of a child. Tessa’s hand was not flung out in search tonight. Instead it was unconsciously clutched to the jade pendant Jem had given her.

“He’s terribly cold, like a statue made of marble,” she’d once said. She was right and when he joked of sending a care package to include hot water bottles to the Silent City, it had fallen flat to both their ears. But if the jade stone could hold their symbolic love, then Tessa skin warmed the jade as if she were holding all the warmth of his soul for him between her breast—over her heart. “Are you bothered that I haven’t taken it off?” she’d asked.

She hadn’t. She’d worn it when they married, worn it every time they made love as they had tonight. She warmed it every time they shared a joke and wished Jem was with them to laugh, when they battled against demons, or even when they simply shared an evening meal together…she would wear it when their child was born and nursed from her breasts. And if magic were true, perhaps the stone could warm Jem across the divide. He cupped his own hand over the jade so it rested between her heart and his hand. “I’m glad for it Tessa. Never be sorry you feel this way.”

The only cause for his trepidation was the fact that objects could hold onto the psychic energy of the wearer. It was how she was able to connect and shapechange into other beings. He worried how much that necklace was absorbing for the sole reason that someday another person, Shadowhunter or warlock could come into possession of it. It seemed a vulnerability, but one he would not take from her.

Exhaustion settled over her and she dropped off to sleep. She had an adorable little snore that soothed him through the night. It was a gentle reminder she was next to him and her breathing a comfort. He waited for that signal before he disentangled himself from her.

He went to his small writing desk by the fire. On it sat the box Jem entrusted to him. Once it held Jem’s Yin Fen, but lately it stored Will’s stationary and inks. Lifting the lid the faint odor of the devastating drug lingered. The scent infused into the paper and Will was instantly taken back to a thousand memories the smell evoked. The drug had always been a part of Jem.

If there ever came a day Jem could reclaim the box once again Will wanted to leave something special for him. He wouldn’t even be considering this if Jem hadn’t been so certain the last day they spoke before he left for the Brotherhood.

Kwan Yin the goddess depicted on the front…She’s the comfort of all suffering hearts.

It was a small thing he could do. Offer comfort to a heart. He sat at his desk and gave considerable thought as to the words he applied to paper.

It was a heavy vellum, treated by warlocks. It was expensive and rare—he’d only procured a few sheets and those only through hard bargaining. Running his fingers over the smooth surface he gave considerable thought to what words he would write.

These words would stand the test of time. He’d once thought of writing the ultimate novel to put Dickens to shame, but that seemed inconsequential in this moment. It was a silly thought considering the tools before him were of a quality for the pages and bindings of the Book of the White or the Red Scrolls of Magic—where words held infinite magic and power when woven into spells. A letter written now might last millennium, and that was a long amount of time even for a warlock or a Silent Brother. And words were the only thing he could offer to the whims of immortality, for his body would eventually die.

Now, he would use these tools to immortalize his thoughts.

He would give Tessa the stationary tomorrow and urge her to put pen to paper her wishes, her desires and dreams. He wanted to know all her thoughts, but neither letter they wrote would be for each other.

Both would be for Jem.

The one thing Will had utter faith in was Tessa. She would always believe in miracles and she would never give up hope. It would be enough for him to believe that Jem, his beloved parabatai would someday get his miracle too. And Will wanted him to understand that he was never forgotten.

He folded the letter and set it in the box with a silent prayer. Someday, may my words be a comfort to your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kwan Yin the goddess depicted on the front...She's the comfort of all suffering hearts," is a direct quote from Cassandra Clare's Infernal Device Series.


End file.
